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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164167">Entr'acte</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsong/pseuds/Rainsong'>Rainsong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lights in the Shadows [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age II</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canada, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Anders (Dragon Age) Positive, Bethany and Carver Hawke Live, Bisexual Hawke (Dragon Age), Canon Bisexual Character, Custom Male Hawke (Dragon Age), Disability, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Graduate School, Hawke &amp; Varric Tethras Friendship, Hawke Has ADHD, House Party, Humor, Improv, Learning Disabilities, M/M, Making Out, Med Student Anders, Minor Isabela/Merrill (Dragon Age), Named Hawke (Dragon Age), Nonbinary Hawke (Dragon Age), Not Beta Read, Other, POV Hawke (Dragon Age), POV Third Person Limited, Present Tense, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Romance, Service Dogs, Texting, Theatre, Trans Hawke (Dragon Age), Trans Male Character, one-sided Bethany/Sebastian, one-sided Carver/Merrill</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:01:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,385</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29164167</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsong/pseuds/Rainsong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The Hanged Man Theatre presents EDWARD ALBEE'S </i>The Goat, or, Who Is Sylvia?<i>, directed by Varric Tethras, dramaturgy by Josephine Montilyet. January 24-27 at 8 p.m. at the Kirkwall Playhouse. Tickets $5, or pay what you can with valid student ID. Relaxed performance on Sunday.</i></p><p>It's the opening night of Varric's new show and Fenris is hosting the after-party. Hawke, grad student and occasional actor, goes along to play <i>Smash</i>, eat shawarma, and procrastinate on their thesis. But Fenris has a new roommate who is far more interesting than any of that: a reclusive med student named Anders.</p><p>University AU of my Hawke and friends from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099796">No Rest in This World</a>. See work notes for trigger warnings.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anders/Hawke (Dragon Age), Anders/Male Hawke, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Lights in the Shadows [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>When I read "<a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/11410155">L778 (Millennium Gold)</a>" by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatteringmyashes/pseuds/scatteringmyashes">scatteringmyashes</a>, I fell in love with the idea of lighting designer!Fenris and actor!Hawke, and ended up incorporating that into my own modern AU. If you're a FenHawke fan and want more theatre AU, definitely check that one out!</p><p>I learned basic CSS for the Facebook Messenger conversation in this fic! You can find the code <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29809578/chapters/73338768">here</a> :)</p><p>This fic is kind of a love letter to my extended friend group and to my city. I miss in-person theatre and house parties and coffee shops and improv shows very badly, so I'm living vicariously through Hawke and friends at the moment. Some details in this fic are inspired by real events and places I've been to. If you more than vaguely recognize something... Hi?</p><p>The choice of art student!Hawke as my POV character, rather than med student!Anders, was very deliberate, because I know absolutely nothing about med school. Please feel free to correct me on that stuff! I <i>do</i> know what I'm talking about when it comes to theatre, though, so hit me up if you want to talk about postdramatic tragedy and Sarah Kane ;)</p><p><b>Trigger warnings:</b> Explicit language, legal marijuana use, legal alcohol use. Additionally, some of the plays and books discussed in this fic include elements or themes of bestiality, parent/child incest, parent/stepchild incest, adult/minor relationships, rape, sexual violence, suicide, homophobia, child death, animal death, and eye mutilation. None of these topics are discussed in detail. The characters approach them mostly from a critical academic perspective, but also make light of some of them. I thought I should provide a trigger warning just in case. Google the titles at your own risk!<br/>Please check back as more chapters are posted, because there may be others.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="fbmessenger">
  <p class="fbmessagebody">
        <span class="fbheader"><span class="fbhide"><b>Group Chat: </b></span>more like the HUNG man</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fbtime"><span class="fbhide"><b>Time: </b></span>22:46</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplysingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>ok i’m lost. where the fuck is this house</span><br/>
<span class="fbgrouptext">Fenris</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextsingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Fenris: </b></span>Where are you?</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplyfirst"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>uhhhhhhhh</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplylast"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>across the street from the circle k</span><br/>
<span class="fbgrouptext">Fenris</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextsingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Fenris: </b></span>Which one</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplysingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>the one next to the shawarma place</span><br/>
<span class="fbgrouptext">Fenris</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextsingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Fenris: </b></span>Osmow’s or Queen’s</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplysingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>queen’s</span><br/>
<span class="fbgrouptext">Isabela</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextsingle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Isabela: </b></span>omw to rescue hawke, anyone want shawarma??</span><br/>
<span class="fbgrouptext">Merrill</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextfirst"><span class="fbhide"><b>Merrill: </b></span>Yes please!</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextmiddle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Merrill: </b></span>Oh but I don’t know what I want</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextmiddle"><span class="fbhide"><b>Merrill: </b></span>Maybe I should go with you</span><br/>
<span class="fbtextlast"><span class="fbhide"><b>Merrill: </b></span>Let me get my coat</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplyfirst"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>waiting inside</span><br/>
<span class="fbreplylast"><span class="fbhide"><b>Hawke: </b></span>it’s fucking freezing</span><br/>
</p>
</div><p>“Hello Hawke! Hello Otis!” says Merrill, her voice chiming with the electronic bell on the door.</p><p>“There you are. I was starting to worry I was on the wrong side of town,” says Hawke.</p><p>“How did you get lost? Fenris lives right next door to Sebastian,” says Isabela, greeting them with a kiss on the cheek.</p><p>“Why didn’t he just say that?” says Hawke. “I was going in circles!”</p><p>“There’s nobody there yet, anyway. You’re only missing extremely sober beer pong.”</p><p>“I almost won against Varric!” says Merrill.</p><p>“Get a couple drinks in me and we’ll play doubles, Kitten,” says Isabela, with a wink to Hawke. They all know Isabela is the queen of trick shots. Whether or not she actually wins the game, she always comes out on top.</p><p>“I can’t believe Fenris has an apartment. With a lease and everything,” says Hawke.</p><p>“And dumpster Ikea furniture,” says Isabela.</p><p>“His roommates are very nice!” says Merrill. “They’re doctors. Handsome doctors.”</p><p>“Med students,” corrects Isabela. “Some day, they will be handsome doctors.”</p><p>“Are they not handsome now?” asks Hawke.</p><p>“Oh, of course. But there’s just something about having extra letters in your name that’s undeniably sexy.”</p><p>“Hamish Hawke, B. A.”</p><p>Isabela wrinkles her nose.</p><p>“Not that one.”</p><p>“M.A.? Ph.D.?”</p><p>“Now you’re talking,” says Isabela, with a grin.</p><p>“Are you going to order?” asks the cashier.</p><p>“Oh! Just give me a moment,” says Merrill, eyes darting back and forth across the menu.</p><p>Ten minutes later, with plastic bags of Middle Eastern food clutched tight in their gloves for warmth, Isabela leads them back to Fenris’ new apartment. It’s “new” as in “new to them”—the building has to be at least 50 years old, and there’s some haphazard caution tape hung across part of the porch where boards are missing. Hawke recalls walking by this place last year on their way to Sebastian’s house and seeing the same tape. They wonder if this is another one of Gamlen’s buildings.</p><p>The warmth inside is a welcome change from the January chill, but Hawke suspects it will become too hot within a few minutes. They kick off their boots in the entrance, and Isabela takes their coats and bags to toss them in one of the bedrooms, off the hallway, while Merrill leads Hawke to the kitchen to sort out the shawarma. The kitchen is surprisingly spacious, though not luxurious. As Isabela described, there’s a stained Ikea dining table set up for beer pong. A door leads to what is presumably a back patio. It’s ajar, and Varric is speaking to someone beyond. There’s a faint scent of marijuana in the air. Whoever is smoking it must really want to get high, because it’s too cold to even breathe properly outside.</p><p>“Hawke! Speak of the Devil!” says Varric.</p><p>“What did I do now?” asks Hawke.</p><p>“Nothing! I was just telling my new friend Velanna about how you saved my ass with this show. She was in the audience.”</p><p>Velanna’s head, blonde and angular, appears in the door frame—the source of the pot smoke. She doesn’t smile, but nods approvingly at Hawke.</p><p>“Whoa, who brought a dog?” asks someone from behind them. Hawke turns around to see a stranger coming up from the basement with an armful of empty bottles and cans. They’re tall and dark-haired, wearing a band t-shirt Hawke doesn’t recognize.</p><p>“Otis is my service dog,” says Hawke, taking a breath in case they need to explain more. They often do.</p><p>“Oh! Sweet. Hi, Otis! Sorry, didn’t mean to be a jerk about it. I’m Nathaniel,” says the person, putting down half of their load to shake Hawke’s hand.</p><p>“Hawke. My pronouns are they/them or he/him. You’re Fenris’ new roommate, right?”</p><p>“Yeah, one of them. And, uh, he/him. Are you from the theatre… stuff? Sorry, I wasn’t at the show tonight.”</p><p>“Yeah,” says Hawke. “We do improv together, too.”</p><p>“Ah, cool! Well, make yourself at home. Bottom shelf of the fridge is mixers, help yourself. Fenris and I are playing <em>Smash</em> downstairs if you’re interested.”</p><p>“Alright, maybe. Thanks,” says Hawke.</p><p>Nathaniel grabs some drinks from the fridge—Hawke notes that there seems to be very little other than liquids—and heads back downstairs.</p><p>“Did you get the one without pickles or did I?” asks Merrill, her head halfway inside the paper bag.</p><p>“I got it without pickles.”</p><p>“Oh, good. I like pickles. Here you go.”</p><p>“Nice to see you, Hawke,” says Sebastian, taking a step towards them. He’s drinking something out of a red solo cup that Hawke suspects is nonalcoholic, by the big swig he takes of it.</p><p>“You too,” says Hawke. “How’s the new semester treating you?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s grand! I just dropped a course, so I should be able to make the jam next week.”</p><p>“You missed Varric’s <em>great</em> clowning workshop,” says Hawke, loudly enough so they know Varric can hear.</p><p>“I thought it would be fun!” shouts Varric, from across the room.</p><p>“Clowns aren’t fun!” retorts Hawke.</p><p>“I liked it,” says Merrill.</p><p>“Is your sister coming tonight?” asks Sebastian.</p><p>“Yeah. Carver’s flight landed an hour ago, so they should be here soon,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Great,” says Sebastian, looking away from them. Hawke knows Sebastian and Bethany have a thing going on, and that neither wants to talk about it. Or maybe Sebastian just has a thing for Bethany and she humours him. Either way, Hawke always ends up as the awkward third wheel. Maybe tonight, Carver will be the lucky one.</p><p>“Hawke, can I have one of your beers?” asks Isabela, appearing at their side. She’s already holding two bottles.</p><p>“Why didn’t you bring your own?”</p><p>“I did. Yours are better.”</p><p>Hawke sighs and nods. Isabela is at least polite enough to open them and hand one to Hawke, first.</p><p>“I’m going downstairs,” says Isabela.</p><p>“I’ll come with you,” says Hawke. “We should chat later, Seb.”</p><p>“Right,” says Sebastian, raising his cup. He looks around for a moment before going to join Varric by the door.</p><p>Hawke and Merrill follow Isabela downstairs. The stairs are narrow, with worn-down green carpet, and they take a 90-degree turn into a room with a ceiling so low Hawke has to duck. Fenris and Nathaniel are sitting on a futon and playing <em>Super Smash Bros. Ultimate</em> on a surprisingly decent TV. Aveline is sitting underneath a broken dartboard, hoarding a bag of chips and a tall can of cider.</p><p>“Hi Hawke,” she says, her mouth full.</p><p>“Aveline! I’m surprised you’re here,” says Hawke. They dash in front of the TV to sit on the floor next to Aveline and help themself to some chips. Isabela and Merrill squeeze into the couch next to Nathaniel.</p><p>“Why?” asks Aveline.</p><p>“I haven’t seen you at a house party all year, is all,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Wedding planning,” says Aveline, flashing her ring as a reminder. Hawke nods. Aveline and Donnic had gotten married just before Christmas. Hawke had gotten embarrassingly drunk at the reception and tried to pick up one of Aveline’s French cousins—during their best man speech. It was great.</p><p>“Fuck!” shouts Fenris. “How do you keep beating me with <em>Kirby</em>?”</p><p>Nathaniel laughs triumphantly. Fenris sighs, hands the controller to Isabela, and turns to Hawke to avoid more gloating.</p><p>“Did they have any baklava left?” asks Fenris, without a greeting. He takes a swig of red wine directly from the bottle.</p><p>“What kind of a question is that,” says Hawke. They fish in the bag for a moment and hand Fenris the baklava.</p><p>“Excellent.”</p><p>“I like your new place,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Yes,” agrees Aveline. “I meant to say it earlier, but I’m really proud of you, Fenris, for finding a real place.”</p><p>“Is it so unbelievable?” he asks, taking a bite of baklava.</p><p>“Yes,” says Hawke. “I mean, there’s a fridge and everything. And your roommates seem normal.”</p><p>“You haven’t met Anders yet,” says Fenris. Nathaniel snorts a laugh.</p><p>“Are they here?” asks Hawke.</p><p>“He’s hiding in his room,” says Nathaniel.</p><p>“He’s no fun, anyway,” says Fenris.</p><p>Hawke begins to dig into their wrap and garlic potatoes. It’s all gone cold in the brief walk from the restaurant to Fenris’ house. They glance at the TV: Isabela is leading, but not by much. Merrill is sitting between her and Nathaniel, providing a babble of commentary.</p><p>“Did you see <em>Goodnight Desdemona</em> last week, Fen?” asks Aveline.</p><p>“I attended, but I didn’t <em>see</em> anything,” says Fenris, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I thought the set was all right,” says Hawke. “What was visible.”</p><p>“Most of it was recycled from <em>Les Belles-Sœurs</em> last spring,” says Aveline.</p><p>“Right! I thought it looked familiar. And weirdly sixties,” says Hawke.</p><p>“That’s community theatre for you,” says Fenris.</p><p>“Oh, you’re just upset they stopped giving you press tickets,” says Aveline.</p><p>“I was right!”</p><p>“You could have been a little more forgiving.”</p><p>“It’s not my fault the man can’t handle honest criticism. He’s forty-two years old!”</p><p>“Your review wasn’t even that bad,” says Hawke, through a mouthful of falafel. “I’ve written more scathing things about my friends’ shows.”</p><p>“I know…” says Aveline. Fenris shares a grin with Hawke.</p>
<hr/><p>When Hawke goes upstairs to wash their sticky baklava hands, there’s a few more people standing around. Velanna and Varric are inside, still chatting by the pong table, but they left the door open to dispel some of the heat. Carver and Bethany appear to have just arrived, along with Bethany’s friend Allison, who is making small talk with Sebastian. Hawke almost goes to hug Carver before remembering the baklava hands. There’s an unfamiliar blond person filling a glass of water at the kitchen sink, so Hawke ducks into the bathroom instead to wash their hands. When they finish and return to the kitchen, the blond has disappeared.</p><p><em>Odd</em>, thinks Hawke.</p><p>“Hi, Hal! Can I borrow your phone charger?” asks Bethany, noticing her eldest sibling at last. Hawke grimaces.</p><p>“I forgot it at home.”</p><p>“Typical. You’re just like Carver.”</p><p>“Ask Fenris, maybe? Hey, kiddo!” says Hawke. They wrap their brother into a hug; Carver begrudgingly hugs them back. “How was your flight?”</p><p>“Awful. I sat next to a baby.”</p><p>“You must have fit right in.”</p><p>Carver punches their shoulder.</p><p>“Kidding!” says Hawke. “I’ve missed you.”</p><p>“I missed you, too,” admits Carver. He hadn’t been able to come home for Christmas, and instead had saved up his days off to come home for a week in mid-January.</p><p>“Wanna come downstairs and watch Isabela crush everyone at <em>Smash</em>?” asks Hawke.</p><p>“Just let me grab a drink,” says Carver.</p><p>With a fresh bottle of beer for themself and Carver’s disgusting Jack-and-off-brand-Coke in hand, Hawke leads their brother downstairs.</p><p>“Suck it, Aveline!” shouts Merrill, surprising both Hawkes. Carver bumps his head on the low ceiling and swears under his breath.</p><p>Aveline sinks back against her chair, smiling in spite of her loss. Merrill is giddily watching the replay of her win, and Isabela smirks at her, too, though in a much less innocent way than Aveline.</p><p>“Everyone, this is my brother Carver. Carver, this is everyone,” says Hawke. They know it’s not helpful.</p><p>“Hi Carver!” says Merrill. Carver blushes. The others give him a nod or a wave, and Carver looks around for a moment before sitting on the floor near Isabela and Merrill.</p><p>“Want a turn, Hawke?” asks Aveline, offering the controller.</p><p>“Against Merrill?”</p><p>“Maybe you stand a chance of beating her,” says Aveline. Hawke takes the controller and squeezes into the couch next to Isabela.</p><p>“How hard can it be?” says Hawke.</p><p>It turns out that beating Merrill is impossible, but Hawke has fun, anyway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“A carbon tax won’t fix the fact that you bought a pipeline!” says Bethany, almost hitting Hawke in the face with her gestures.</p><p>“Alright, Beth,” they say, laughing. “You’re preaching to the choir.”</p><p>“It just… Ugh!”</p><p>“I know,” says Allison.</p><p>A few heads turn at the sound of someone coming downstairs. It’s the tall blond person Hawke saw by the sink earlier. They give a slight smile to the group and head to the fridge.</p><p>“Did you hear what the premier said in response to that?” asks Velanna.</p><p>“Don’t get me started on him!” says Bethany. She takes a big swig of her drink, prompting a laugh from Hawke. If Velanna keeps asking questions, Bethany is likely to go all night.</p><p>To everyone’s surprise, the blond ghost pours themself some ginger ale into a red solo cup, and joins the loose circle. They hold themself nervously.</p><p>“Someone take a picture. Anders is at a party!” says Nathaniel, clapping them on the shoulder.</p><p>“I live here,” says Anders. “I… I finished my work.”</p><p>“Good! Time to have fun!” says Sigrun. “Want some vodka?”</p><p>“No thanks,” says Anders, turning a little red. “I don’t drink.”</p><p>“No worries,” says Sigrun.</p><p>“Oh, yeah, hey. This is Anders, our other roommate,” says Nathaniel, to the rest of the group. Bethany grins.</p><p>“I’m Bethany. She/her pronouns.”</p><p>“Same. Allison.”</p><p>“Hawke. They/them or he/him.”</p><p>Velanna and Sigrun just nod; they seem to already know Anders.</p><p>“Nice to meet you,” says Anders. “I use he/him. You’re all friends of Fenris, then?”</p><p>“More or less,” says Hawke. “Someone mentioned you’re a med student, too?”</p><p>“Yes. Second year,” says Anders. He seems uncomfortable with the sudden attention. Bethany picks up on it, and dives back into the political discussion with vigour.</p><p>Hawke feels themself tuning out almost immediately—they and Bethany had an hour-long conversation about this with Gamlen earlier in the week. Anders seems not to be following, and Hawke decides they may as well start a new conversation.</p><p>“Hey, so, Anders. How do you like this new place?” they ask.</p><p>“It’s good. Nicer than my last place.”</p><p>“What was your last place like?”</p><p>“It was a basement. Got enough sunlight during the summer, but I had a 45-minute commute, so I never saw any during the winter.”</p><p>“That must have sucked. I’m really grateful that I’ve been able to live within walking distance of campus the whole time.”</p><p>“What are you studying?” asks Anders. He leans back against the counter, separating the two of them from the larger conversation. He seems a little more comfortable with a one-on-one conversation.</p><p>“I’m doing my master’s in English. First year. My B.A. is in theatre, though.”</p><p>“Oh! Are you the director, then?”</p><p>“No, that’s Varric. He’s… Somewhere,” says Hawke, glancing around. “I’m more of a literary theory person, but I do some acting.”</p><p>“What kind of literary theory?”</p><p>Hawke laughs. They never know how much detail people are asking for when they ask these kinds of questions. “I’m writing my thesis on dragon and serpent motifs in 16th-century English epic poetry,” they say. “So, semiotics, symbolism, allegory, textual analysis. My premise is basically how dragons are used to represent the racialized Other in fiction—Muslims, in this case. I think I’m gonna work mostly with <em>The Faerie Queene</em> by Spenser, but I’m not sure yet.”</p><p>“Wow. That sounds interesting. I read bits of that in an undergrad class,” says Anders. “About the knight and the lady with the sheep.”</p><p>“The Redcrosse Knight?”</p><p>“Yeah!”</p><p>“What class?”</p><p>“Oh, boy… It was at Calenhad. I think it was Intro to British Lit. I needed an English credit. Hardest class I ever took.”</p><p>“I know some of the Calenhad profs! Was it with Daniela Velásquez?”</p><p>“No, it was a man. Mc-something.”</p><p>“Oh, MacGowan!” says Hawke, laughing a little. “Yeah, I've heard he’s a hardass. Hates it when people who aren’t arts students take his class.”</p><p>Anders chuckles. “I worked with a bio prof who was the same, last semester. He taught intro courses and the first day of class, he would be as dry and jargony as possible to weed out the people who were looking for an easy A. Great fun after that, though.”</p><p>“I don’t know much about how med school works. Do you have to write a thesis or something?”</p><p>“Not in my program, no. But some people do a Master's or Ph.D. at the same time.”</p><p>“Gotcha. Do you know what you want to specialize in, yet?”</p><p>Anders frowns. “I can’t decide. I’m torn between emergency medicine, and public health and preventative medicine.”</p><p>“Cool,” says Hawke. “What draws you to those?”</p><p>“Emergency is fast-paced. You’re on the ground saving lives, making a difference. You’re the one treating an overdose or a sudden stroke. And also writing medical notes for people with the flu and casting broken arms, but that’s all right, too. Public health usually has less patient-doctor interactions, but you get to make a difference in another way. You’re working with policy-makers and hospital administration on things like vaccine distribution, sex ed, nutrition. It’s definitely dry sometimes, but I care a lot about public health and healthcare policy.”</p><p>“Those are pretty different fields,” says Hawke. “It sounds like a tough decision.”</p><p>“It is… I’d ask you what your plans are with grad school, but I recently learned that arts students don’t like that question,” says Anders, teasing.</p><p>“Don’t ever ask that about a visual arts student,” advises Hawke. “But I have more or less of an idea. I want to teach, so it’s a Ph.D. next.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yeah. I talk a lot, and I hate teenagers, so I figured my options are teaching university students or going into politics. And there are too many incriminating pictures of me out there for politics.”</p><p>Anders laughs. “What about acting?” he asks.</p><p>“Acting is a tough industry to get into, even for people without a disability,” says Hawke, glancing at Otis.</p><p>Anders nods, his eyes widening. “If you don’t mind me asking, how does it work for you two, when you’re acting?” he asks. “I’ve never seen a service animal on stage.”</p><p>“It depends on the show,” says Hawke. “If it’s short or I’m just in a few scenes, he can usually wait just offstage. If it’s a longer show where I have to be on stage the whole time, or if there’s a lot of stress on my body, it’s safer for him to be with me. It depends on the director how that works. Last show I did with Varric, Merrill—our set designer—she built some really cool set pieces where Otis could sit behind them, but still be close enough to me to respond if I needed him. People saw him sometimes when we moved around, but not enough to really be distracting. But in the show we’re doing right now, I joined at the last minute, so there wasn’t time to accommodate for Otis. We got some giggling and whispering when I came on stage, but I think after a while people forget he’s there.”</p><p>“Has he ever needed to intervene during a show?” asks Anders.</p><p>“Never,” says Hawke, knocking on the cupboard behind them. They hope it’s real wood. “I had a close call in third year, though. Not a seizure! But during intermission, another actor had smudged her makeup, and I was trying to help her fix it before we went back on. My blood sugar was dropping, because I didn’t have a chance to eat. I’m, uh, hypoglycemic, too. I wouldn’t have noticed I was feeling weak if Otis hadn’t been there.”</p><p>“What did you do?”</p><p>“I told the stage manager, and she gave us another five minutes so I could have a snack. And, of course, I messed up my own makeup while trying to eat. Went on, anyway.”</p><p>“How much makeup were you wearing?” asks Anders, with a chuckle.</p><p>Hawke grins. “Full drag,” they say. They laugh at Anders’ look of surprise. “No, really! It was <em>The Taming of the Shrew</em>. All the roles were drag. I played Bianca. The director’s idea was that the play is a satire of Elizabethan gender roles, hence, drag, to highlight that. I don’t think it worked, but it was a lot of fun. I even did a couple real drag shows after that. Couldn’t commit to it, though.”</p><p>Anders grins, and Hawke catches something curious in his expression. They hope that it’s recognition, but there’s not much else to go on, beyond the fact that Anders didn’t hesitate to give his pronouns earlier.</p><p>“I admit I don’t know a lot about theatre,” says Anders. “Fenris saved me a ticket for tomorrow, since I couldn’t make it tonight. What’s it about?”</p><p>Hawke inhales, staring at the floor for a moment.</p><p>“It’s about a nuclear family torn apart by bestiality,” they say. They figure blunt is the best way to go. “It’s about the limits of liberal society. It’s not actually an endorsement of bestiality,” they clarify.</p><p>“Oh. Wow,” says Anders. “And you said you’re acting in it, right?”</p><p>Hawke feels themself get a little pale. They were hoping they could avoid mentioning this to the cute med student.</p><p>“I’m, uh, playing the lead,” they say, wincing. “The guy who’s in love with a goat.”</p><p>After a moment, Anders chokes back a laugh, and Hawke lets themself chuckle, too.</p><p>“Well, now I’m morbidly curious to see it,” says Anders.</p><p>“Hey, that’s what tragedy is!”</p><p>“Hawke, are you bad-mouthing my show already?” asks Varric, startling both of them.</p><p>“Not at all! Just trying to explain it without sounding like an insane person,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Ah, the classic problem,” says Varric.</p><p>“Not as bad as your last show in the black box.”</p><p>“That one was great! You said Hippolytus was your favourite role to date!”</p><p>“Yes, but I’d also like to be able to invite my mother to a show, someday,” says Hawke.</p><p>“What was that one about?” asks Anders. Hawke closes their eyes for a moment; Varric’s face brightens.</p><p>“The classic tale of a woman in love with her stepson. Everybody dies in the end. Hawke played the stepson,” says Varric, with a note of pride.</p><p>“Right. First incest, now bestiality?” says Anders, eyebrow cocked.</p><p>“Oh, no spoilers, but this one has incest, too. I thrive on controversy,” says Varric. He takes a swig of his beer.</p><p>“Don’t encourage him,” says Hawke. “It’s a miracle he hasn’t done a gritty, postdramatic adaptation of <em>Hamlet</em> yet.”</p><p>“Overdone. I’m thinking of a solo version of <em>Oedipus Rex</em> for my next one. Something, something, subjectivity and scapegoating… May as well go for the incest hat trick. You’ll be my Oedipus,” says Varric. “Hey, Anders, you wouldn’t happen to be a psychiatrist, would you?”</p><p>“No,” says Anders, laughing. “But if you want to talk about psychoanalysis, ask Sigrun.”</p><p>Varric excuses himself from the conversation after a few minutes, and Anders and Hawke continue their conversation, moving on from Hawke’s questionable theatre resume to Anders’ brief exploration of theatre in high school, then a sharp turn into criticizing the education system and recent changes to the sex ed curriculum, and somehow a detour into what concerts they’ve seen (Anders’ taste is unexpectedly eclectic).</p><p>The whole time they talk—over an hour, perhaps even two—Hawke finds themself completely enraptured, unable to look away from Anders for too long. Anders has plenty of opportunities to move on and go talk to someone else, like when Sigrun offers them corner store doughnuts, but he doesn’t leave, which reassures Hawke that he is, in fact, enjoying talking to them. While talking about sex ed, Anders mentions how important it is for queer youth to learn about sexual health from queer adults, implying that he is one such queer adult and confirming Hawke’s earlier intuition. As time goes on, Anders leans closer when he laughs, and Hawke notices his fingers on the edge of the counter have crept forward, towards Hawke’s own. More than once, Hawke is pretty sure Anders notices them looking at his lips. And when Anders turns a casual comment about his favourite coffee shop into something that sounds like an invitation for Hawke to go with him, Hawke lets themself start to believe that he really is flirting with them. Or at least he doesn’t mind Hawke flirting with him.</p><p>Hawke catches a bit of conversation from the other side of the room: Aveline is heading home. They glance down at their phone to check the time, but it’s dead.</p><p>“Oh, damn… I forgot my charger.”</p><p>“Is it a type C? Wanna borrow mine?” asks Anders.</p><p>“Yeah. If you don’t mind?”</p><p>“Come on.”</p><p>Anders turns and heads towards the stairs, gesturing for Hawke to follow. Hawke can’t help but freeze for a moment, giddy and nervous. They figure that there’s no reason Anders couldn’t just bring the charger downstairs. What are the chances this <em>isn’t</em> an opportunity to be alone? It’s a bad excuse, really, but there’s still enough plausible deniability to make Hawke second-guess whether they’re misreading the situation.</p><p>They follow him upstairs, all the same.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A lot of my social circle is polisci or adjacent students, so my uni house party experience always has lots of lively discussions. I don't know how universal that is lmao. I genuinely looked at news articles from January 2019 to make sure Bethany's rant was historically accurate lol.<br/>Also, I know I said I know nothing about med school, but I did do enough research to figure out that after 3-4 years of a normal undergraduate program, Canadian med students do another 3-5 years that are also considered undergrad before they're officially doctors. So Anders has a B.Sc. and is in his second year of an M.D. program. At least I'm pretty sure that's how it works <s>please tell me if i'm wrong</s></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's the opposite of a slow burn? Because these gays have no time for pining.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anders’ room is the first one on the right. He clicks on a solitary desk lamp as Hawke stands in the doorway for a moment, unsure to what extent they’re welcome. The room is small, and a little messy. There’s not much room between the double bed pushed against the wall, the Ikea desk with a stack of textbooks looming over a MacBook, and a dresser and bookshelf shoved into the corner, not quite fitting into the shape of the room.</p><p>“Oh, hey, can I show you something?” asks Anders. Hawke nods, and takes a step into the room. Anders doesn’t stop them, so Hawke steps in fully, and swings the door back, though it doesn’t click shut. Anders grabs his laptop, sits on the bed, and shuffles down to sit against the wall. He pats the bed for Hawke to join him. Hawke panics for a moment, then composes themself, and sits. They slide down to join Anders against the wall while he searches for something. Otis puts his chin on the bed. Hawke usually lets him sleep on their bed, but there’s no reason for it, really. Otis can do his job from the floor. Hawke shakes their head, and Otis lies down, grumpy.</p><p>“Here,” says Anders, turning the laptop towards Hawke. “Maybe you’ve seen this before, but she’s a friend of a friend. What you said about your dog reminded me of this. Not the same, but…”</p><p>Hawke smiles as they scroll down the page. It’s an article from one of those pop journalism sites about an up-and-coming drag queen and her emotional support animal. There’s Instagram pictures of the artist and her cat in matching outfits, intercut with quotes from an interview about how the cat helps her deal with anxiety.</p><p>“I haven’t seen this before. It’s cute,” says Hawke. “Next time I do drag, I’ll make sure to cover Otis in glitter, too.”</p><p>“Oh, God, that would be awful to clean up!” laughs Anders. “Does he get his own drag name?”</p><p>Hawke grins, looking down at the dog. “It’s gotta be Thalia, right, buddy?”</p><p>“Why Thalia?” asks Anders.</p><p>“My drag name is Calliope,” says Hawke, blushing. They know it’s nerdy. “Greek Muse of epic poetry. Thalia is the muse of pastoral poetry. It rolls off the tongue better than ‘Euterpe’ or ‘Melpomene,’ at least.”</p><p>“Hm. Tail-ia?” suggests Anders.</p><p>Hawke groans at the terrible pun. Anders laughs and closes the laptop. He pushes it away and turns to Hawke, staring at them for a moment.</p><p>“I like you,” he says.</p><p> “I like you, too,” says Hawke. “I wasn’t expecting Fenris to have such cool friends.”</p><p>Anders chuckles. “I don’t know if we’re friends. Roommates, for sure. We barely see each other.”</p><p>“That explains it,” says Hawke.</p><p>They glance at their hands. A little shaky, but it’s not their blood sugar. Nerves, then. They look back up at Anders. “Okay, so, did you just ask me to come upstairs just to show me cat pictures, or…”</p><p>Anders blushes. “I don’t know,” he says, and Hawke can tell he means it. He’s just as nervous.</p><p>Hawke bites their lip for a moment. “Can I kiss you?” they ask.</p><p>“Yes,” breathes Anders.</p><p>Hawke leans into the impulse and reaches up to touch his face. He smiles, so they kiss him.</p><p>They’re both shaky, breathing unevenly, and Hawke quickly does the math and realizes it’s been close to two years since they’ve done this with anyone. There’s some justification for the nerves, then. But the muscle memory is there—gentle movements, heads tilting naturally to the side, breathing in the scent of each other. Anders doesn’t smell or taste like anything in particular, but it’s nice. Hawke hopes they don’t taste too much like beer. Anders wraps an arm around Hawke’s waist while they twist a lock of his hair between their fingers, holding his face the way they had been thinking of doing intermittently for the past hour. His hair is softer than it looks, and his face is flushed and warm against Hawke’s palm.</p><p>Hawke pulls back from the kiss for a moment to look at him. They both smile—nervous, but less so now that the barrier has been broken.</p><p>“So, do you want to go back to the party?” asks Hawke, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>Anders’ answer is to kiss them again.</p><p>Hawke laughs and pulls him a little closer. They part their lips, and Anders responds eagerly. He lets out a little hum—not a moan, but still a good noise that makes Hawke’s heart flutter.</p><p>Hawke is vaguely aware that this is out of character for them. They met Anders literally hours ago. And now they’re making out with a stranger in his bed. Well, maybe not a stranger—they’ve already talked more than Hawke has ever talked to some of their colleagues—but almost a stranger. For all they know, Anders could be a serial killer. Or he could be in a cult. Or he could be secretly married. Then again, so could anyone else Hawke has kissed. After all, what’s the difference between making out with a girl from Tinder on the second date, and making out with their friend’s roommate at a party? And Anders didn’t even ask for their star sign (Cancer sun, Aries moon) before kissing them, which is probably a first. Hawke’s dating life has been embarrassingly stereotypical thus far.</p><p>As they find a rhythm to the kissing, Hawke’s mind and hands wander to the rest of Anders. Under the oversized sweater, he’s thin and bony, to a degree that Hawke is a little concerned. His long fingers trace the edge of Hawke’s jaw and curl into their hair. Hawke, cautious but curious, slides a hand up Anders’ hip to hike up the sweater a little. He inhales slightly, but it’s in surprise, not panic. Hawke stays there for a moment, tracing a lazy circle above his hipbone with their fingertips. Not thinking too much about it, their fingers slide higher, along his ribcage. As Hawke’s other hand reaches under his sweater, wondering if they could maybe remove it, Anders freezes for a moment. He brings a hand to Hawke’s chest to hold them back, so Hawke stops.</p><p>“I’m not comfortable having sex tonight,” says Anders.</p><p>Hawke leans back a little to give him space. “Okay,” they say. “Do you want to stop?”</p><p>“No. Not if you don’t. Kissing is nice.”</p><p>“It <em>is</em> nice,” agrees Hawke. After a second to make sure Anders is still comfortable, Hawke leans back in to kiss him.</p><p>With the boundary established, Hawke can relax a little more. They might have gone further tonight, if Anders had wanted, but now they can just enjoy the kissing, without wondering if there will be more.</p><p>Well, there is a <em>little</em> more. Anders pulls them down to recline against the pillows, and slides his hand down their back, pausing at their waistband and pulling back from the kiss to check. Hawke smiles, so Anders continues down to grab their ass. Hawke pushes some of Anders’ hair out of the way to kiss his cheek and jaw. Anders closes his eyes and sighs, content, and he smiles when Hawke kisses his lips again.</p><p>Hawke’s not sure how long it’s been—somewhere between ten minutes and two hours—when they’re interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and the creak of it swinging open. Hawke curses themself for not shutting it properly as they sit up and adjust their shirt. There’s no plausible deniability here, but at least they can maintain some decency.</p><p>“Oh. Sorry,” says the person at the door, audibly shocked. It’s Nathaniel.</p><p>“What is it?” asks Anders. He smooths down his hair and avoids eye contact with either of them.</p><p>“I, um, was going to ask you if you knew where Hawke went,” says Nathaniel. He looks at Hawke, eyes darting around as if he’s trying to find the least embarrassing place to look. “Your sister’s looking for you,” he says.</p><p>“Oh. Right. My phone’s dead,” says Hawke. “I’ll… Uh. Be down in a minute.”</p><p>“Sorry. I didn’t realize…” says Nathaniel, trailing off. He turns around and shuts the door properly behind him.</p><p>After a moment, Hawke lets out a laugh. Anders joins them.</p><p>“I’m sorry about that,” says Anders, shaking his head.</p><p>“Don’t be. I left the door open,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Nate doesn’t gossip, you don’t have to worry about him.”</p><p>“Oh, I don’t care. I have zero shame,” says Hawke. They try to sound convincing, but it’s a lie, of course. Anders laughs.</p><p>“I figured that out when you said you were an actor,” he says.</p><p>Hawke gives him a playful glare. “I should go see what Bethany needs,” they say.</p><p>Anders sighs, and leans over to kiss them again. “Okay,” he says. “Don’t leave without saying goodbye.”</p><p>“I would never,” says Hawke, hand over their heart. They kiss him on the cheek and stand up.</p><p>Otis yawns, but he knows it’s time to get back to work. Hawke glances back over their shoulder at Anders for a moment before leaving the room. He smiles at them, soft and warm in the light of the desk lamp. Hawke’s heart flutters, and continues to do so as they close the door behind them and descend the stairs.</p><p>The chatter and bright lights of the party are a harsh contrast to Anders’ room (for such a crappy building, there’s good sound insulation), and it takes Hawke a moment to get their bearings at the foot of the stairs. Bethany notices them and crosses the kitchen.</p><p>“I was worried you’d left. Carver and I are ready to go home. Are you coming?” she asks.</p><p>“What time is it?” asks Hawke.</p><p>Bethany shows them her phone: 2:03 a.m. When did it get so late?</p><p>“You’re calling an Uber?” asks Hawke.</p><p>Bethany nods. “I’ll come get the car tomorrow,” she says.</p><p>Hawke sighs. “Yeah, I’ll come with you. Just give me a minute,” they say.</p><p>Bethany raises an eyebrow as Hawke turns back to the stairs, but she doesn’t comment.</p><p>Hawke knocks gently on Anders’ door.</p><p>“Come in,” he says, muffled.</p><p>Hawke pushes it open and steps in. Anders is sitting where Hawke left him, phone in his hands.</p><p>“My siblings want to head out. It’s getting late,” says Hawke.</p><p>“Okay,” says Anders, and Hawke can tell he’s disappointed. They’re disappointed, too.</p><p>They step further into the room for a moment to sit on the edge of the bed.</p><p>“I’d ask you for your number, but I didn’t actually get around to charging my phone,” says Hawke.</p><p>Anders laughs. “Here. Give me yours,” he says, tapping his phone a few times and then handing it to Hawke. “So I’ll see you at the play, tomorrow?” he adds.</p><p>“I should be there,” says Hawke, grinning. They type in their contact information and hand the phone back to Anders. “Tonight was really fun,” they say.</p><p>“It was,” agrees Anders. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed with Hawke and leans in to kiss them again. Hawke can’t help but let a small whine escape; it’s frankly unfair that they have to leave. But they’ll see Anders again tomorrow.</p><p>“I should go,” says Hawke, pained.</p><p>Anders nods. “Get home safe,” he says.</p><p>“Thanks. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>Bethany and Allison already have their coats on by the time Hawke joins them in the entryway, and Carver is sitting on the floor, lacing his ridiculous heavy-duty snow boots.</p><p>“What are you smiling about?” says Carver, narrowing his eyes at his sibling as they arrive.</p><p>“Nothing,” says Hawke, though they feel their cheeks reddening.</p><p>“What were you doing upstairs?” asks Bethany.</p><p>“Nothing,” insists Hawke. “None of your business.”</p><p>“I think the question is ‘who’ was he doing?” says Carver.</p><p>Hawke kicks his shin.</p><p>“Uber’s here, kids,” says Bethany.</p><p>Allison and Hawke follow her outside.</p><p>“Wait!” says Carver, scrambling to his feet. He rushes out without putting on his coat.</p><p>It’s a short ride home with a quick detour to drop off Allison, but Hawke is grateful they opted for an Uber rather than walking. It’s freezing outside.</p><p>Bethany calls dibs on the shower, so Hawke goes straight to bed.</p><p>They plug in their phone and wait for it to turn on, unable to think about anything other than whether Anders has texted them. He has.</p>
<p></p><div class="sms">
  <p class="smsmessagebody">
        <span class="smsheader">Unknown</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="smstime"><span class="smshide">Time: </span>2:09</span><br/>
<span class="smstextfirst"><span class="smshide">Unknown sender: </span>Hey :)</span><br/>
<span class="smstextlast"><span class="smshide">Unknown sender: </span>This is Anders</span><br/>
<span class="smstime"><span class="smshide">Time: </span>2:28</span><br/>
<span class="smsreplyfirst"><span class="smshide">Hawke: </span>hey! :D</span><br/>
<span class="smsreplylast"><span class="smshide">Hawke: </span>made it home</span><br/>
<span class="smstextfirst"><span class="smshide">Anders: </span>Good to hear</span><br/>
<span class="smstextfirst"><span class="smshide">Anders: </span>I have an early class so I can't stay up to chat unfortunately</span><br/>
<span class="smsreplyfirst"><span class="smshide">Hawke: </span>i have an 8:30...... oops?</span><br/>
<span class="smsreplyfirst"><span class="smshide">Hawke: </span>see you tomorrow :)</span><br/>
</p>
</div><p>They want to text him something about how it was nice to get to know him and how they really want to hang out again, very soon, but they’re sober enough to know that that would be a bad idea. Hawke is certainly impulsive, but not <em>that</em> impulsive.</p>
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